Self talk

The words I say aloud, within and to myself:
Little drops that fill my oceans,
Little grains that build my world,
Molecules making up my entire reality.

Thus every moment of the day,
I say this, that, and every other
About everything that’s me and not me
In a never ending argument,
A storyline that tells a picture –
The story of my life.

Over the years, in sheer persistence,
Something inside me keeps on and on
This very detailed creation,
Piece by piece of everything about me.

Whether I am aware of it or not,
Do it on purpose or not,
It happens nevertheless . . .
And never-the-more,
Because the building is also the circumscribing –
Superficial, deep, significant or not,
Or even simply, utterly mediocre –
As these words constantly define my universe.

Each little self talk I engage in
Is actually more like self-instruction
Convincing me of what I consider myself to be,
What I want, what I must have,
What to choose, accept, relish, reject;
What I take as good or bad for me;
What or who I love or hate;
What I must work towards come what may,
Or else away from;
To chase, to run;
To do, or not to do,
Which comes first, and which comes next,
And which can wait how long;
What to say in joy or pain,
Alone or not,
What to see, or hear, or feel,
Or not.

My self-talk: my self-instruction, self-construction . . .
And also my own self-destruction –
Inevitably, inexorably, propelling me into
One kind of limited existence or another.

What salvation comes with knowledge?

Should I then not at once be self aware,
Acknowledging this awesome power of my word,
Respecting it as God-given –

And knowing the unearthly effect that it has on me,
Would I not rather that my words
Propel me on towards my paradise,
More and more making my self-talk
A long continuous prayer:

Words directing every thought of mine
To the only Word that can define
A wondrous reality
For me,
For all eternity.

from word verses 101111

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2 Responses to Self talk

  1. Ian Malcolm says:

    Rosemary invited me to comment on your poems. This is one I like. The idea that we express and define ourselves in words, and that, in a way, God did the same, is a subtle insight. I feel the poem might be better without the seventh verse (“Whoever would have thought of it this way…”) which, to me, is a bit banal and self-contradictory.

    • verserver says:

      Thanks for your comment and suggestion. I’ve taken out most of the seventh verse and decided on ‘one kind of limited existence or another,’ instead of ‘a heaven or a hell.’
      I’d been thinking about self-talk a lot. What triggered it off was one of Fr Leo Clifford’s 7 minute Reflections found on the EWTN site.

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